Belize, with which
my distant cousin George Fife Angas traded from his London base, has a
checkered past. It began life as a harbour for British pirates, whom the local Spanish
rulers were unable to dislodge. In the seventeenth century, the buccaneers moved,
like more recent gangsters, into legitimate business activity.
Their main trade
was the felling of the bloodwoodtree (such a piratical name for a tree!): the
timber was exported to Britain where it was used for dyeing cloth. As demand
for bloodwood fell off, they began to harvest rain-forest mahogany in huge
quantities. It was this which drew George Angas to Belize, to supply the
hardwood timber requirements of the family’s coach-building business in
Newcastle-upon-Tyne.
George Fife Angas (1789-1879)
In order to make
his ships pay on both legs of the journey, Angas loaded them on the outward
voyage with luxury goods from Europe, Jamaica and North America, for which
there was a steady demand from the British Hondurans. They may have foresworn
actual piracy, but the British settlers were still a hard-living, fiercely
independent population. Their taste for rich plunder remained, and Angas
always carried strong alcoholic cargo to satisfy their prodigious thirst, as announced for example in this notice in the Honduras Gazette and Commercial Advertiser
of Saturday 10th March 1827:
One sea-captain
who had the misfortune to be shipwrecked on Honduran shores spent many months
with the bloodwoodsmen while waiting to be rescued. Admittedly this was in
1720, a century before Angas’s time, but he described his hosts as “generally a
rude drunken crew, some of which have been pirates.” There was, he noted, “but
little comfort living among these crew of ungovernable wretches, where was
little else to be heard but blasphemy, cursing and swearing.”
But there is
honour among thieves and a code of rough justice even among pirates. By 1738
the community had begun to elect magistrates from amongst its population to
rule on common law; and in 1826 it was those magistrates who edited a new
weekly newspaper for the settlement, the Gazette
in which Angas and his fellow traders advertised their wares.
In March 1827
the magistrates felt confident enough to delegate the editorship to the paper’s
printer, James Cruickshank, but relieved him of it only eight months later on
the grounds of his intemperance. In retrospect the seeds of his drunkenness were in this notice appearing in the second edition for which Cruickshank was
responsible. Cruickshank was taking on another new role, as hotelier:
The Belize
Coffee-House and Hotel sounds to me exactly the sort of establishment which
would have been enjoyed by the town’s piratical founders two centuries earlier:
the private rooms for parties, the emphasis on grog, ale, porter and wines by the
gallon or quart or case. And James Cruickshank seems to have been unequal to the task
of resisting temptation when, as a partner in the hotel venture, he presumably
had his own key to the Coffee-House liquor store. Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of
rum.
This is really a wonderful post.
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